


with a bleeding heart

by cress_ent



Series: our fire rages, our hearts are never tame [3]
Category: Dream SMP war - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Dream SMP War, Gen, Moral Ambiguity, cress rambles about moral greyness through tubbo for 2k words, otherwise known as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27089053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cress_ent/pseuds/cress_ent
Summary: There’s a question that dances on the tip of his tongue, something that’s been spinning through his head since he last talked to Tommy, on the cliff outside his old home — the remains of the embassy — and he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, to let it carve out a larger spot in his mind than he’ll let it, but he can’t ignore it. And there’s no one to ask it to, really, but the person in front of him, with an iron crown and a familiar smile.“Eret,” Tubbo starts, hesitantly, because he isn’t fully sure of his own thoughts, “do you— do you think Schlatt’s as bad as Wilbur and Tommy think he is?”-or, in which tubbo visits an old friend and questions his loyalties
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: our fire rages, our hearts are never tame [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970710
Comments: 2
Kudos: 104





	with a bleeding heart

“Tubbo?”

Tubbo peeks his head in through the side of the grand entrance to Eret’s castle, giving them a sheepish grin. “Hi.”

Eret returns his smile, adjusting the dark glasses that frame their face as they make their way towards him. “What a surprise! You haven’t visited in a while.”

“I’ve been helping set up for the festival,” Tubbo says, following Eret through the wide hallways, floors of polished wood framed with stone bricks that give way for sweeping, wide windows. If he pauses to regard the view, he can almost see the entirety of the land they’ve settled, the community they’ve built — it’s still taking some getting used to, being able to see Manberg in its entirety from so far out past its borders, the walls that he worked so hard to build torn down, gone. “And, well, I guess we’re technically still enemies, aren’t we?”

Eret lets out a laugh — it’s so familiar, a sound Tubbo hasn’t heard in far too long, and he can’t help but have it bring him back to an earlier, easier time. “You’re right, you’re right. I guess I’ve just been missing having you around.” They pause next to one of the windows Tubbo couldn’t pull his eyes away from, and Tubbo follows their gaze to the setting sun, to the imposing figure of the new flag of Manberg, nothing more than a silhouette with orange embroidery that emanates a foreboding fiery glow. “You, Tommy, Wilbur, Fundy, Niki… I don’t regret what I did, but I do miss being around everyone a little. The way things were before. Sometimes this castle gets a little lonely.”

(Tubbo makes a mental note to come visit Eret more.)

For a moment, it’s just the two of them, regarding the sunset and the flag and the promise of a new age for a land, a nation, that is so different from what it used to be.

There’s a question that dances on the tip of his tongue, something that’s been spinning through his head since he last talked to Tommy, on the cliff outside his old home — the remains of the embassy — and he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, to let it carve out a larger spot in his mind than he’ll let it, but he can’t ignore it. And there’s no one to ask it to, really, but the person in front of him, with an iron crown and a familiar smile. 

“Eret,” Tubbo starts, hesitantly, because he isn’t fully sure of his own thoughts, “do you— do you think Schlatt’s as bad as Wilbur and Tommy think he is?”

(He didn’t ask Tommy this, even though he could have, and he did that for a reason — Tubbo loves Tommy dearly, cherishes and trusts him more than he does anyone else, but Tubbo knows that Tommy is too loyal, believes that Wilbur can still come back from the depths he’s fallen. And, well, Tommy was one of two people exiled entirely from Manberg; he hasn’t gotten to see Schlatt in a light other than that of a tyrant, a dictator, an emperor with no mercy. He’s biased, and Tubbo knows full well what his answer to this difficult question would be.)

Silence hangs heavy in the air, the sun falling farther below the horizon, the light given off by the fiery threads of the flag Fundy slaved over becoming stronger with every fading ray, and it all stretches on far longer than Tubbo would like before Eret responds. “Schlatt’s made it clear that he has no respect for the history that L’Manberg was built on,” they say, words slow but sure. “And that’s something I can’t tolerate. But he’s called for a festival, for something that would bring joy to a place that’s been ridden with so much strife.”

“And Wilbur—” Tubbo says, “Wilbur’s gone mad. He wants me to help blow up Manberg and I— it doesn’t  _ feel _ right, Eret, but he’s  _ Wilbur _ , he’s the guy that led us through an entire war for independence, he can’t be all gone, right?” Schlatt wanted to tear down the van where it all began, the monument to the beginning of every single battle they’ve fought since, and Tubbo — it hurts him too much to even imagine, barren land where the van used to be, the physical reminders of Tommy and Wilbur and a simpler time gone, too. It’s enough that Tubbo has to sneak out every time he wants to hear Tommy’s laugh or see Wilbur’s smile, that the only connections he has left to any shreds of L’Manberg are the records that Schlatt allowed him to keep — he doesn’t need to lose the physical monuments along with the people and the history. But Wilbur doesn’t seem any more sane than the current president Tubbo serves. “I don’t— Eret, I don’t know what to do.”

A hand grasps his shoulder, grounding and comforting and familiar. “Tubbo, I can’t tell you what to believe, or who to follow,” Eret tells him. “You need to make that decision for yourself.”

Tubbo knows he’s right, but he’s spent so much time following Wilbur and supporting Tommy and not stopping to think, to have to deal with anything as messy and gray as this, that he isn’t sure he’d know how. 

“Eret, I’m scared,” Tubbo whispers, and Eret’s face fills with worry and concern and pity, and Tubbo almost regrets it, but with Tommy so far away, Eret is the closest he can get to someone he can trust. “I just — Wilbur’s not the same, I know he’s not, and Tommy’s still following him because he still believes in Wilbur, and I trust Tommy, but—” Tubbo steps out of Eret’s reach, grips the stone that surrounds the sweeping window and gazing out at the land around them. “He’s not our fearless leader anymore, is he?”

“Well, he’s definitely not fearless.” Eret perches lightly on the same windowsill that Tubbo finds himself gripping tighter and tighter — it is made of stone, it will not give under his grip, but oh can he try, oh does he have anger and fear to give in excess. Behind the dark-lensed glasses Eret always wears, Tubbo can see the glowing white eyes that hide. It unnerves him a little, but he still thinks it’s so cool. “He’s scared everyone’s against him, that he needs to do something as drastic as blow up the entire nation to either get his own power back or make sure Schlatt doesn’t have any — and,” they let out a soft, bittersweet laugh, “I guess that’s partially my fault, huh?”

“You, and me, and Fundy — what are we all  _ doing _ , Eret?” Tubbo looks at Eret and he knows there is desperation written across his face. Sees his own worry reflected in the crease between Eret’s eyebrows, the tight press of their lips against each other.

“What have we done?”

The sun is far past the horizon when Tubbo leaves Eret’s castle, a slight chill in the night air as he makes his way back to Manberg. He wonders what Tommy’s doing, wishes he could talk to him — but Tubbo’s in Manberg, and Tommy’s in Pogtopia, and the stiff and starchy material of his suit scratches his skin and he already snuck out yesterday, he can only give so many excuses before Schlatt will realize something’s up. The only thing left of Tommy in these lands that are so changed, so different, are the discs that lie in the bottom of Tubbo’s enderchest, and it would feel wrong to listen to them without Tommy at his side. 

Tubbo passes by the small courtyard in front of the stage and the White House, unable to keep from smiling to himself, self-satisfied, at the colourful sight in front of him — all the tents and shops, the warm lantern lights, the festival attractions that he worked so hard to put together. He’s done some good work here, he thinks. 

Schlatt’s done some good work, organizing this all. Suggesting the idea of a festival in the first place. The all-encompassing, persisting gloom that enshrouded Manberg in the days after the election has lifted a little, burned away by the fire of a thousand lanterns, by the brightness of the coloured tents, by the promise of smiles and laughter and new memories, memories that won’t hurt as much to think about. Something like this — something L’Manberg never really had time to consider or think about, after fighting so hard to establish themselves and fighting so hard to stay stable — would be good. It’s good work. 

“Tubbo! There you are.”

Schlatt makes his way down the hill that leads up towards the White House, catching Tubbo in the middle of the courtyard. He stands with him, surveying the work Tubbo’s done, and gives Tubbo a rare, genuine smile. “The festival’s looking good, Tubbo — I knew I could count on you.”

It’s been a long time since Tubbo’s heard those words from anyone. (It feels a little too good.) (Is it wrong of him? To enjoy that he’s being trusted, being counted on?)

“Thanks, Schlatt,” he says, and the suit feels a little less foreign, a little less strange, “that means a lot.”

“Look, Tubbo,” Schlatt says, and he rests a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder as they look out at the warm, welcoming sight before them, (it is similar to Eret’s hand, and still so unfamiliar, so different), “can I be honest with you? Just between you and me, the president and his right-hand man.”

“S-sure,” Tubbo says, because what else is there to say? (He cannot tell if he agrees because he wants to be able to tell Wilbur and Tommy all these secrets afterwards, or if he agrees because some part of him does trust Schlatt, just a little.) 

“I know you were real close with— with  _ those two _ , before I got here,” Schlatt says, and it doesn’t take a genius to know he’s talking about Tommy and Wilbur, “and you gotta understand, I’ve got nothing against them personally.” He stops, and lets out a small laugh, and it’s tinged with bitterness. “Okay, well, maybe I’ve got a little history with Wilbur. But you have to know — none of that was what caused me to run against them. What caused me to run against them, and to  _ win _ , was that when I got here, they were nothing more than two tyrants, looking to keep their power as long as they could in a way that the people would respect.” 

Schlatt begins to walk through the festival Tubbo’s set up, and Tubbo’s got no choice but to follow. “Quackity told me all about it, about how they wanted to close the ballots, make it a one-party system, and, well — that’s just not true democracy, is it?” He turns back to regard Tubbo, and there’s a glint in his eyes that Tubbo can’t quite name. “And I love Quackity to bits, but the man knows nothing of leadership. He’d run this place to the ground, Tubbo! I had to get on the ballot somehow — you understand now, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Tubbo understands, alright. 

He understands that — that just like Wilbur, and Tommy, and Eret, and himself, Schlatt is a man with his own set of ideals, his own perspective and his own set of beliefs and his own moral code, and he has  _ reasons _ for what he does, reasons that might stretch a little deeper than surface level cruelty or tyranny. He understands that Schlatt isn’t a bad person, necessarily — no more than Wilbur is bad, or Dream is bad. Schlatt isn’t trying to be a villain, isn’t trying to ruin Manberg. He’s just — looking at the situation in front of him and taking it all in and reacting the ways he knows best. Tubbo understands that Schlatt truly thinks his rule, his leadership, is what’s best for Manberg right now. 

Tubbo understands clearly, for the first time, that black and white were never colours he should have used to paint the people around him. That everyone he knows, everyone on his side, everyone against him,  _ himself _ — they are all painted in a monochrome gray.

**Author's Note:**

> a good writer friend of mine told me "once you start writing character studies, you can't stop." considering that this is the third one i've written in about a week, and that i have plans for at least three more, i think they were probably telling the truth. 
> 
> tubbo is - tubbo has a very interesting arc, i think, and a lot of the realizations he makes about the greyness of morality leading up to the festival are nullified by schlatt, yknow, murdering him, but i think the doubt he shows around whether wilbur is still good and whether schlatt is all bad makes for a lot of interesting discussion around the moral greyness of the characters in the server in general. (if you wanted to know where i placed him on the soldier/poet/king dynamic, i think tubbo is a poet! very solidly one too.) (eret is also a poet, they won't be getting a character study but that is what i think of them)
> 
> kudos and comments are always appreciated! find me [here](https://twitter.com/MANGOP1E) on twitter if you want to see more!


End file.
